The Way of the Evangelist

Now for the way of the evangelist, which is of course the precious path to the Gospel of life.

I hear what you're saying about "x", and as much as I want to show I'm listening to where you're at and bring the light of truth to bear upon that specific point, I want, not to ignore what you say, but to really get to the heart of it. I want to tell you about what Jesus thought of "x" and what he did about it so that you could know true peace/forgiveness/healing/the beautiful, rich life you were designed for...

The Way of the Apologist

I have lamented previously about my tendency to answer questions or address comments very precisely (the way of the teacher, perhaps). Unlike some people, I can't just give a nod to the issue at hand and pass onto a larger or more important response. But maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to if I can convince myself that this is actually addressing the question in a more exact, more profound way. Let's give it a go, two ways. The first is the way of the apologist. I think it has wonderful potential for topics about which people would never normally in a million years listen to the Christian perspective - topics like homosexuality and the fundamental goodness/badness of people. Here goes (and do keep in mind that I wouldn't necessary say it all this way - these words are partly for my own reassurance).

I hear what you're saying about homosexuality being a natural part of the human makeup, and as much as I want to show I'm listening to where you're at and bring the light of truth to bear upon that specific point, I want, not to ignore what you say, but I think that it's actually impossible for my perspective to make any sense unless I can first explain to you who God is to me.

I don't really have words for this, but all I can say is that I truely believe that he is real and he made all that is; that originally he made it all perfect and beautiful and harmonious and enjoyable in every imaginable way; that he is a good God who cares tenderly for each person that walks the earth; he is a God who knows what is best for each person, knows what things are good and bad, right and wrong.

So when I listen to God telling me what to make of people's sexuality, it is this God I'm listening to - not the concept of god or my personal imaginings of who he might be - but this actual, wonderful God...

Boring old Bible

Your statutes are wonderful;
therefore I obey them.
The unfolding of your words gives light;
it gives understanding to the simple.
I open my mouth and pant,
longing for your commands.
Turn to me and have mercy on me,
as you always do to those who love your name.
Direct my footsteps according to your word;
let no sin rule over me.
Redeem me from the oppression of men,
that I may obey your precepts.
Make your face shine upon your servant
and teach me your decrees.
Streams of tears flow from my eyes,
for your law is not obeyed. (Psalm 119:129-36)

Of all the things I might do with my life, I want to help women understand the Bible. I always find it hard to pinpoint why or to explain it in more captivating language. Not until I hear someone (like my pastor) boldly and faithfully proclaim its stories and truths, not until I hear someone get it all wrong, do I even remember the depth of my passion. For I really, really do care about this stuff. I feel so happy and glad when someone speaks truely, and so deeply troubled and disturbed when they get it wrong. I guess it's partly a personality, partly a 'gifting' thing - I'm the type who gets off on thinking and reading, so of course I was always going to appreciate the Bible. But it's a Christian thing too, and something I have grown into. I remember reading Psalm 119 as a newer Christian and it not striking any chords. I wanted it to, but it just didn't yet. But now I read it all and shout amen. So why do I care about this Book?

No doubt a significant reason is that I never knew anything like it before. Well, I always owned a Bible, but it meant nothing to me until I was shown that it might and did. I guess through my life I was looking for knowledge, looking to be streetwise, to live according to what was there, not according to some story, however glad or sad. Perhaps because I've experienced a fair whack of hypocrisy, I've always sought to live truely. For a long while I thought that meant dispensing with a grand narrative and ideas of Good and Bad. So when I became a Christian and realised that God had explained so much to us, I loved it!

For this is how I see the Bible: the very words of God, telling us about himself, the world, the history of man, giving us direction and truth. I still wish to live according to reality, not my foreshortened, culturally palatible version of it. I know my mind is small and I'm culturally-bound, so it's been my desire to submit to God. I haven't always liked every point of his Scripture and oftentimes the words have left me cold, but I was always been sure they were true. And so I prayed hard and worked hard to live that way, to embrace those truths, and they have sustained me.

It's not just that I thought the Bible was true; I have also been pushed along by my desire to live as well as I can in this short life. From the beginning of my new faith, I could see the value of man, I knew that it matters how we live. As the pinnacle of God's creation, we were made to live in righteousness, beauty, truth and great richness, and, when we failed at that, we were redeemed and changed so that we might do it properly. We're not nothing, our actions aren't nothing, this stuff - these decisions we take each day, what goes through our minds, what motivates us - this stuff matters.

But more than anything, I care about God's honour. So I want to know what he has to say to me. I want to live in a way that shows that what he says is true, and good.

Besides, once you have encountered God and started to comprehend that he is GOD, once you have been saved by him and started to understand just what happened, what else is there to do but to give your life over to him, to devote yourself to knowing him and following his ways? How can his Word not be everything to you?

And as I have lived this way, I have never been disappointed. These things that were supposed to be true and dependable have proven so. Sometimes they have been shocking and hard, but they have never failed me. God knows what is real and what is good, for he made it so. He is to be trusted in this. Life lived this way brings great harmony, purpose and security, even in the unhinged, confused times, because true things keep on being true however hollow they sometimes sound. More than this, his Word brings life. The news of Jesus' deeds brings life, abundant and eternal. Such is the value of these words.

Contentment, singleness etc

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Paul, Philippians 4:11-13)

We're asked to do all sorts of good things in our Christian lives. Sometimes these things come easily - perhaps God made us a naturally generous person or our family lived that way. But often we have to fight for the good. My guess is that contentment can be one of God's more elusive demands. Of course, I'm thinking here of contentment where your circumstances are not as you would have them, or indeed when things are very bad.

It's not normal to be content when things are bad and you're looking them full in the face. It's found in God and is given by him. And sometimes he teaches you to trust him by witholding the circumstances that could so easily make you happy and sometimes by witholding the happiness itself for a time. He does this, not out of capriciousness or to be cruel, but because there are things that we are slow to learn in the good times, when we can so easily turn our attention elsewhere. Things we can only experience once we really do come to know and trust our God. Things that will bring us great, deep, lasting joy.

So I think that if, unlike our brother Paul, you don't feel content in every situation, then you should fight for it. You should pray sincerely for it and keep on praying til you receive it. You should do what you can to get it - working hard to get to know your Father, reminding yourself of all the compassionate, big-hearted, mighty things God has done for you, including allowing the murder of his Son.

But contentment doesn't mean you have to be pleased with your circumstances. The same man who wrote the lines above also urged slaves not to let their servitude trouble them, but added: "if you can gain your freedom, do so" (1 Corinthians 7:21). So if, say, your heart aches in your singleness, find contentment in God, keep looking out for a man, and don't pretend it doesn't hurt. This is what godliness looks like in this messy time when evil and brokenness have been conquered but not yet purged.

What waits for me

A little poetic, this one.

I stand outside this culture. All goes on without me, as it did before I came, as it has for as long as there have been people here, and before. That first day I spent moving over the globe, the people of Chile went on with their life. Their world continues if I understand it or not. Standing outside of it is like standing outside of the future, eyes straining forward. I can imagine what goes on there; I'm excited by it all. I can picture a beautiful life here, with friends, creativity, great fruitfulness in ministry, even love. As the real world calls to me, so too does this real future world of my own making. It leans back and swings its arm toward me, catching at my heart and hopes, and my heart leaps to see it waiting there. But it taunts me because it isn't real - not yet it isn't, and perhaps it never will be. I need to look to today. Look to today and look to the great Tomorrow, to the Tomorrow that I will walk in as sure I walk today. The Tomorrow that's no mad dream. I need to look to the man who will take me there, the Shepherd who knows how hopeless my heart can be, who'll make sure I get there anyway. This hope, this bright, extravagant, tender thing inside of me, it has a purpose. It has a resting place. Perhaps good things will come to me over these next short years. Surely they will. But they are little outposts of all that will be - that will be. It were better for this poor heart of mine if I looked there. Look there, poor heart of mine! Look there and don't be always looking back and around.
It is too much for me. God give it me.

But as for me, I trust in you. 

- Psalm 55:23

The Foreigner

I've got it just about as good as it can get. I'm not a refugee: I came here of my own free choosing. People don't scorn me: rather, they look up to me, the rich, white, English-speaker. I haven't suffered cultural awkwardness and rejection: I'm surrounded by the loveliest, most welcoming people. I don't get stared at or treated differently: I pass for a Chilean on the street. The culture's not confronting and Other: I think I may even end up feeling more comfortable in this culture than in my own. And I don't find the language alien and veiled: rather, I enjoy it.

But I'm a foreigner still. It's strange to find myself thus. I don't think I'd really twigged that it would be my identity when I stepped off the plane. I find myself in something of a no-man's-land, at once part of things and not. Obviously I'm physically present in all sorts of situations and places, but socially and relationally I'm looking on.

Of course this can happen in your own culture, if you're excluded from a friendship group. Horrible as this experience is, at least at some level you still belong. You know how these groups operate and what people are thinking (that's why it hurts so much); you know how to go about life in your country; and (hopefully) you are part of other relational webs. But as a foreigner, you find yourself, not outside of a particular group, but outside of a whole culture. It's like there's a bubble enclosing all the people of the land except for you. You can see and hear and even communicate with them, but there's much you don't understand and you're not in. Maybe it's a bit how people with Autism and Asperger's feel - although I suppose they don't always realise what they're missing.

I don't really know what point I'm trying to make. I guess I'm hoping to help my dear readers understand - so you can feel sorry for me (!) and be a friend to the foreigners in your life. Don't feel too sorry for me though - I feel very confident that this is just a phase and a short one. I think that God chose very well when he placed me here and I do think that all will be well. I've always been fascinated by 'sense of place', so in a way this experience is a great blessing for me. And I pray it will help me know, love and turn my eyes to the land where one day I will truely be home.

The first will be last

A Chilean friend confessed to me that while she can understand English, she doesn't try to speak it because she feels like English speakers have no sympathy for beginners. It's quite the opposite here - people view your attempts, however hopeless, as a sign of love and respect and will listen with great patience. I'm sure I've said any number of funny things over the last three months, but I've only ever been laughed at once and that was completely fair enough (when asked what sport I like, I said "nacer" instead of "nadar" - "being born" instead of "swimming"). I think there's something about speaking the world's highest-status language that convinces us we're superior. I feel this too - when the people who have been so gracious with me mispronounce English words, I find myself sniggering a little, as if it's funny - and silly - that they didn't know any better. I don't mean to think this way, but I do, and, if English is your first language, then I bet you do too.